


Careful Of The Abyss

by hirusen



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bloodline Heir, Body Horror, Consensual Possession, Consent Issues, Daemon Separation, Daemons, Demonic Possession, Demons, Dreams and Nightmares, Flashbacks, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Haunting, Horror, Language, Magic, Magic-Users, Magical Tattoos, Memories, Original Fiction, Original Gods & Goddesses, Original Mythology, Original Realms, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possession, Psychic Bond, Psychological Horror, Runes, Seasonal Spirits and Guardians, Spell Failure, Spells & Enchantments, Spirit World, Spirits, Underworld, constant danger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hirusen/pseuds/hirusen
Summary: For it will stare back and consume those whom fail to be wary.
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character





	Careful Of The Abyss

"Spirit of the grave, hear me! I command you to leave this vessel! Leave this vessel of the gods and return to your bindings!" Cedric's voice boomed towards the man bound to the metal table, him thrashing about and screeching, the spirit inside desperate to keep hold of the man. Cedric raised his hand, the tattoos that covered his arm fainting glowing through the fabric of his shirt, as he repeated the incantation. Doing a tranqiteus spell in the middle of a urban house wasn't the best setting for such a strong form of magic, but he didn't really have much choice in the matter.

If he failed to expel the spirit from the man, he'll lose his soul and end up going on a killing spree before the police shoot him to death; it won't be a pleasant way to go.

Of course, if he does succeed in pushing this spirit out of the man's body, he's going to have a _VERY_ long talk with him and his husband about letting their young daughter play with a Ouija board alone.

The man that was bound to the table let out another screech and Cedric heard that the pitch of it seemed more like a woman's than a man's. "O spirit of the grave, giveth thy name and free thyself from thine bindings!" She'll hopefully listen, as a tranqiteus spell is rather painful for both possessed and possessor. "C-Catherine!" The other man in the room looked stunned to hear a clearly female voice escape his husband's mouth, but it was all Cedric needed. "Catherine! As the one who named you, I bind you to your rightful place! Flee this vessel and know peace!"

Cedric commanded, his tattoos glowing more prominently now, but he ignored both it and the look the other man was now giving him in favor of focusing on the spell, and then it happened.

The crunching of bone.  
The wet sundering of flesh.  
The scream of pure agony.

Blood exploded like geysers from the bound man's mouth, nose, and eyes; his stomach distending to the size of a small child's head before erupting into a sloppy mess of gore and viscera.

An ichor slick hand grasped the edge of the destroyed area where the man's stomach once was, followed by another as they found enough purchase on those edges to start to pull something out.  
Something with monstrously long and bone thin arms, arms that bend backwards from a humans; arms that had two too many bends in them to even be human.  
Then spiny shoulders poked out, and with them was dragged an almost limp neck if it wasn't for the fact it was nearly three times the length of a human's and was far too thin to be holding up the soccer ball sized head like it was.  
And through the ichor thickened, matted black hair pierced two burning eyes that were slit like a snake's.

* * *

Cedric violently jolted up with a bark of terror, sweat soaking his sheets as his heart pounded against his ribs and his hasty breathing slowly calmed down. He glanced to his arms when he finally noticed that his tattoos were glowing again, but their color was blue, so he was safe for now.

Throwing the sheets off his body, the man made his way to a nearby bathroom, squinting against the unnatural light against his eyes for a moment before he turned on the water and tried to calm his mind.

It's been almost three months now since the Thag'drarith forced its ways into the living world. Those horrid creatures had been thought to been killed off some 689 years ago, but it looks like at least one of them was cunning enough to survive the culling of its kind. Thankfully, it seems that it hasn't been hunting yet or is still too weak to be trying, but he knows it won't be long before it does and it'll cause the whole world to go into a panic once they realize it's not some rouge pack of hellhounds or an Argal that got summoned once again.

The color of his tattoos changed from blue to yellow and Cedric snapped around, a depriiate spell pooling around his fingers, but the being quickly backed away and bared its throat to him. "What realm do you hail from?" "Spirit." "Why do you trespass here, being of the spirit realm?" "I mean no harm, dear Seer, only offering protections." _Ah, a daemon._ "Then why, good daemon, does your appearance reflect a demon's?" "The people here do not know the difference."

Well, that was unfortunately true; most people don't know the difference between a daemon and a demon. Hell, most of them don't even know there's a difference to begin with, they just think a daemon is some kinda off-shoot demon. "And why are you offering your protections to those who reside here if they do not know you mean no harm?" The daemon shook their head. "I come offering my protections to you, dear Seer." _...Wait a minute._

"How do you know what I am?" He made sure to mask his scent so he'd smell like any other human, or at least like a Warlock if a non-human tried to look into it; not to mention that, unless he's using a powerful spell or encountering a strong magic, his tattoos aren't able to be seen by anyone other than himself, and those are the most easy way to identify what he is.

"Catherine told me. She's why I'm hear to offer my protections." Oh. _Well, at least she's okay._ The way the Thag'drarith came into this realm was so violent he was sure that spirit was killed in the processes. "...Relief that she's well?" Damn daemons. "Yes. Yes, I suppose." The daemon smiled warmly to Cedric then. "Worry not, dear Seer, she knows peace and rest in the spirit world." Well that IS a relief to hear; at least his spell worked before that... **thing** appeared. "Then come, o daemon, and give what I am willing to accept."

The daemon's smile widen a little as they stepped to the doorway, but did not cross it; it seems this one favors the gift of the shadows, which isn't always a good sign as he's learned over the years. Cedric offered his hands when the daemon gestured for them, ignoring the slight chill that always comes from the contact of shadow favored daemons. "Blessed Ashiathas, listened to my words. I offer your shadows as this human's shield; guard him from unfavorable sights and guide him to hidden truths. Sweet Ashiathas, give this man your shade in his time of need, and let him find a welcoming embrace among it."

His tattoos changed from yellow to purple as Cedric felt the magic gently wash over his skin, moving over his body until it settled at the base of his spine, a sudden coolness seeping deep into the spot before it vanished. He blinked and the daemon was gone. Glancing at his arms, the color had faded from them, leaving him to gaze at the intricate black ink that was branded onto his body. He had three sets of tattoos that were branded onto him when he was a child: the ones on his arms, the ones on his back that followed the length of his spine, and the ones on his outer thighs and calves.

The ones on his arms he used as indicators for magic and any non-humans that were nearby; the ones on his back were used to detect if he was being intentionally followed or watched, as well as indicate if there was secrets hidden from the naked eye; the ones on his outer thighs and calves were more complex as they had two different purposes that were bound together at the point of his kneecaps. The design on his outer thighs were meant to keep himself balanced no matter what magic was thrown at him or what realm he resided in at the time, while the design on his calves were meant to keep him alive, allowing him to survive nearly all attacks and attempts on his life, save for total obliteration.

Those memories hadn't been drug up a long time, but feeling such gentle magic flowing over his body made the night he recieved his brands come back. It wasn't a short experience, nor a painless one, but it was something he needed to go through.

He was the last surviving member of his bloodline.  
He was the last of his kind.

The last Seer.


End file.
